


I Can't Describe the Joy They Bring (The Universe Approved Remix)

by sunrise_and_death



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Dirk Gently inspired, M/M, Magical Realism, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 11:23:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15023507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunrise_and_death/pseuds/sunrise_and_death
Summary: An object in motion stays in motion, and Neil was nothing if not in motion. The only thing that could stop him was an unmovable object, and there weren’t many of those.There weren’t many, but a snow storm in South Carolina in May could do the trick.





	I Can't Describe the Joy They Bring (The Universe Approved Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [s0ymilk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0ymilk/gifts).
  * Inspired by [I Can't Describe the Joy They Bring (cuz joy is something they don't bring me)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13004937) by [s0ymilk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0ymilk/pseuds/s0ymilk). 



> Remix of s0ymilk's fic, "I Can't Describe the Joy They Bring (cuz joy is something they don't bring me)" for AftG Remix/Redux 2018. Mildly inspired by the Dirk Gently TV show--mildly because I've only seen about two episodes.

He ran.

An object in motion stays in motion, after all, and he was nothing if not in motion. The only thing that could stop him was an unmovable object, and there weren’t many of those.

There weren’t many, but a snow storm in South Carolina in May could do the trick.

Despite the fact that it didn’t make any sense—he wasn’t even in the mountains, where it could maybe be excused—the snow continued to come down. Residents had fled indoors to curl up on their sofas and mutter about freak whether, leaving him to huddle in an alley by himself. The mound of blankets and jackets he’d accumulated didn’t do him much good; as the snowflakes melted, the heavy fabric became more of a soaked and chilly hinderance than a help. 

If he wasn’t so stubborn, he would have taken the not-so-subtle nudge for what it was. But, after being a thing in motion, he was about as obstinate as they come. So he sat and shivered and stared at the coffee shop across the street.

Eden’s Twilight was a pretty stupid name for a coffee shop, he decided. And it didn’t suit the shop itself, with its twinkly strings of lights and cushy interior. He’d been in a lot of coffee shops—no one looked at anyone in a coffee shop, not really, because _everyone_ went in coffee shops—but he couldn’t help thinking this one looked especially nice, cozy but also with the kind of booths that promised that added bit of privacy. It was deserted in the best kind of way too; the only remaining employee was ensconced behind the counter with a baked good and his laptop. Doubtless, he too would be leaving shortly, so as to not get snowed in to the shop.

The boy desperately wanted to go in, shed his layers, and get warm. Under any other circumstances, he would already be scoping out the building, trying to figure out if he could sneak in and hid out over night. But these circumstances included a broken down car with only five thousand miles on it; torn up train tracks (the officials were officially “puzzled”); three separate delayed buses, each with their own unique excuse; and a thief who had managed to grab his duffle and run six blocks before conveniently fumbling it right in front of the coffee shop—all of which added up to too many coincidences to be coincidental. The boy did not like having his hand forced so he dug in his heels and argued with the wind.

“Stop that,” he told it as it plucked at his elbows and blew a bucketful of snow into his face. “It’s not safe. You know the rules. There’s no one there. He’ll remember my face.” People had a bad tendency of doing that anyway, and with no other customers, it would be easy for the sole employee to focus just a bit too much on him.

Of course, there was ultimately no point in trying to argue with something that might or might not exist. It had generally proved to be a bad listener in the past and blatantly flagrant of the rules. The boy generally heeded it, because it had saved his life innumerable times, but he was fairly confident that his father and his men weren’t out searching for him in the middle of this snowstorm. Which meant that whatever it was was meddling. Again.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” he hissed at nothing, and was promptly nearly knocked flat by a gust of stinging snow. He winced and curled tighter into his sodden blankets. Something poked him in the side. Frowning, he dug through the layers and extracted two rectangular shapes from a cargo jacket he’d found abandoned on a park bench near the train depot.

One was a driver’s license for a Neil Josten. The other was a money clip holding two hundred dollars worth of twenties.

The boy peered at the ID. The birthdate listed was only months off his own and the picture looked enough like him that he could reasonably use it until he could get in touch with his mother’s contacts for a better fake. The money certainly wasn’t unwelcome either.

“Thanks,” he muttered grudgingly, tightening his fist around his newfound goods.

 

* * *

 

The boy—who had already started calling himself Neil, because names to him were either meaningless and easily exchangeable or matters of life and death—had always been a certain kind of lucky. The kind that no one else would think of as lucky; he was on the run for his life, after all, and that didn’t seem to be something that would change anytime soon. But the fact that he was still on the run at eighteen years old was its own kind of lucky, and then there was the other thing.

As far as Neil could tell, the world didn’t rearrange itself for anyone else. Or maybe that wasn’t the right way to put it. But odd things happened around him and they normally ended up helping him, in one way or another. Money had a strange habit of appearing around him; whenever he really needed to get away, a form of transportation usually made itself apparent. While he’d been badly wounded, fatal blows were always deflected, sometimes in the most bizarre ways.

When he’d tried to explain this to his mother, she’d dismissed it. She’d hated the idea of things like luck; their escape was purely through her own hard work, she’d felt, and to say otherwise was to imply he didn’t need her. Neil had been painfully aware of just how much he had, in fact, needed her, so he’d never brought it up again. But as best he could, he followed the paths that seemed to appear before him. After she died, he gave himself up to the world’s whims almost entirely.

Except in circumstances like these. Sometimes, the world tried to lead him into things that felt like traps—sign ups for his high school’s Exy team, a letter from a college on the East Coast offering a full-ride scholarship—and he knew better than to follow its lead then. Normal things like that meant relaxing his guard, which meant giving his father the opportunity to find him. He wasn’t that stupid.

This coffee shop was a lesser risk than those, probably, but Neil was still determined to sit it out. At least, he was determined to do so before sirens sounded to life somewhere close by. 

Instinctively, he jumped to his feet, blankets and jackets falling to the ground, and pressed up against the alley wall. The cop car was coming closer, blaring its alarm loudly. In the opposite direction, another set of sirens started up.

“Oh, screw you,” he muttered. Furiously, he tried to calculate what the worst outcome was—he didn’t think the world would actually let him get caught by the cops, but it was notoriously vindictive when he ignored it. His scars could attest to that.

Both cars were definitely coming closer. Neil made a split-second decision and waded across the road, hiking through the snow up to the door of Eden’s Twilight and swinging it open.

The heat hit him like a wave. He closed his eyes for a second, basking in it, and the door fell closed behind him with a chime. Only a second later, a flat voice announced, “We’re closed.”

The shop’s employee was staring at him over the lid of his computer screen. Closer up, Neil could see that he was standing instead of perching on one of the stools nearby; he was even shorter than Neil, the counter coming halfway up his torso. Despite that, Neil’s first impression was one of sturdiness—maybe it was the breadth of his shoulders, or the set of his jawline, but Neil felt flimsy in comparison to him. 

Neil had to pull his scarf down to answer, although he tried to keep as much as his face obscured as possible. “It says you’re open until midnight.” It was one of the first things he’d noticed; the sign was in neon.

The employee didn’t look embarrassed to be caught in a lie. In fact, he didn’t look much of anything at all. “That is what it says,” he agreed. “I’m saying we’re closed.” 

Between this short man and the world outside, Neil couldn’t catch a break. “Fine,” he said, hiking his duffle up on his shoulder and turning to go. When he tried to push the door open, though, he found he couldn’t. Baffled, he gave it another shove. The snow wasn’t piled high enough to explain his difficulty, but the door still didn’t yield. “I think it’s stuck,” he said with a dawning sense of resignation. 

This brought the other man out from behind the counter. As he came to check the door, Neil caught a glimpse of his name tag—“Andrew.” Andrew brusquely gestured for him to move aside and then pushed the door himself. He put a lot more force into it than Neil had, then nodded as if confirming something. “Door’s jammed,” he said. “I’ll get the tools.”

“Does that happen a lot?” Neil asked his retreating back. He was starting to get hot; the heat was cranked up even higher than this weather demanded, he felt. Reluctantly, he disentangled his scarf and let it drop on the nearest table.

He didn’t get any response from Andrew in the back. Neil hovered awkwardly by the door until he reemerged. His exposed face apparently warranted another look because Andrew stared at him piercingly for a moment when he noticed. “About every other week,” he finally answered, dumping a sack full of something metal-sounding at Neil’s feet. “Make yourself useful and hold the flashlight.”

Obligingly, Neil crouched down and took the flashlight, aiming the light at the area around the door handle. Andrew grabbed his hand and redirected it slightly, then released him and set to work.

Neil had nothing to do but watch him, and the more he did, the more strange he found him. Black bands—apparently not attached to his short-sleeve shirt—encased his forearms, and Neil knew enough about knives to notice some of the snags left from concealed sheaths. That sent his flight impulse into full gear, but he forced himself to remain still, pasting over his expression with as much mildness as possible.

Andrew didn’t look at him, intent on the door. His motions spoke of deep familiarity, and Neil kept a close eye on his hands in case he went for his knives. But he never did. Instead, he fiddled around for a few minutes and then stood up abruptly, dumping the tools on the ground. With one hand, he pulled the door open and then closed it again.

“So, what do you want?” he asked Neil.

“What?”

“To drink.” Andrew waved a hand at the counter. “Or eat. You have to order something to stay here.”

Cautiously, Neil stood up, placing the flashlight next to his scarf. “I thought you were closed.”

“We were. Now we’re not. So pick something to order.”

As soon as Andrew moved away from him and settled back behind the counter, Neil relaxed a little. Not that knives couldn’t be thrown, but they bothered him more in close proximity. He adjusted his beanie, debating whether it was worth it to try to leave and inevitably get turned around or to stay here and know that someone with knives was close enough to hurt him.

In the end, Neil wasn’t masochistic enough to venture back out into the storm for no reason. He sat at the table by the door and tugged off his gloves. “A black coffee, please.”

Andrew began moving around behind the counter. Neil sat in his wet things for a moment before he gave up and peeled off his beanie and his jacket. He’d managed to stay mostly dry underneath, which was a relief. He positioned his jacket on the other chair near the heater and hoped it dried quickly; midnight was only a few hours away.

His coffee came and Andrew took his cash wordlessly, which Neil appreciated. He leaned backto sip his coffee, staring at the snow flurries outside.

 

* * *

 

There was still a half hour left when a car pulled in front of the shop and a brightly dressed figure hopped out. After struggling a bit with the snow, the figure made its way in, flinging open the door and beaming down at Neil. “Hey! I didn’t think we’d have any customers, because of the weather.”

Unsure what to say, Neil shrugged, pushing the remains of his second cup of coffee away. “I decided to try to wait it out.”

They both automatically looked back outside; the storm had only gotten worse. “I don’t think it worked,” the man said cheerfully. “I was coming to close up and go home, but we can stay open a while and see if it lets up any, since you’re here.”

“Nicky,” Andrew said. He didn’t add anything else.

“The customer comes first, Andrew!” Nicky chirped back.

“It’s okay,” Neil broke in. He scooped up his hat and gloves and moved to get his jacket. “I should really get going anyway. You don’t need to stay open for me.”

“But…” Nicky peered outside again, craning his neck as he looked around. “I don’t see any other cars. Please tell me you aren’t going to _walk_ in this.”

Neil didn’t say anything. He pulled on his jacket and hoped that he’d indulged enough of the world’s whims that some kind of transport would make itself available once he got outside.

As if to punish him for the thought, Nicky piped up again. “Oh, no, I can’t let you do that. I’ll give you a lift. Where do you need to go?”

It wasn’t likely he’d get a better offer, so Neil reluctantly took it. “Just to the train station, if you don’t mind,” he said.

Nicky frowned at him. “Are you leaving town? ‘Cause I don’t think anything’s running. We’re not really prepared to deal with all this.” He waved his arms expressively. “Thank god I got all-wheel drive is all I’m saying. But, do you have some place to stay until it lets up?”

“Sure,” Neil agreed, lying through his teeth. “It’s near the train station, though, so if you drop me there—”

“Liar” was Andrew’s contribution. Nicky’s was a gasp and—“I can’t just leave you there! Not in this weather. You have to come home with us. You can stay on our couch until this blows over.”

Neil was already shaking his head and mustering up his excuses when Andrew spoke up again. “Nicky’s right,” he said with none of Nicky’s enthusiasm. “It would be a shame if we woke up tomorrow and saw your dead body on the news because you weren’t smart enough to get indoors.”

Even though it didn’t sound like a threat, an ugly shiver ran up Neil’s spine. The world had protected before, but his mother had taught him that no protection was permanent and her death had cemented the idea. He chewed on his lip, then gave in. “Okay,” he said, “Thanks.”

 

* * *

 

Nicky chattered the whole way back to the house where he and Andrew lived. Apparently they were cousins. Neil met the third member of the trio—Andrew’s identical twin, Aaron—upon arriving at the house. Neither of the twins seemed very interested in Neil; Aaron just rolled his eyes and Andrew abandoned them all for his room as soon as they got to the house. Neil had to put up with Nicky talking at him for another hour or so before he too retired to bed.

When he felt sure everyone was asleep, Neil got up from the sofa and tested the front door. It opened easily enough. Outside, the storm was still gusting, but Neil thought it was lessening. If he left now, he thought he could make it to the train station and shelter there until it opened in the morning without having to worry too much about frostbite. He’d kept careful track of where they’d driven and he was pretty sure the station was only a few miles away. If he jogged, he could stay warm and make good time.

Plan in place, Neil suited back up. Once he was all set, he reached for the door.

“Leaving so soon?”

He whipped around to see Andrew casually descending the staircase. When he came to the last step, he plopped down, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on one fist. With the other, he flicked his fingers at the door. “Well? Are you going to go?” When Neil didn’t respond or move, one corner of Andrew’s mouth pulled into something not even faintly resembling a smile. “Try it. I’ll bet you ten to one it’s jammed.”

It was such an odd thing to say that Neil felt even more on edge than before. He knew the door was working fine; he’d tried it just a minute ago. To set his mind at ease, he opened the door. Except it didn’t open. It was jammed.

When he looked at Andrew, he got a shrug. “I win.”

Neil dropped his hand from the door and paced a few steps away. “What do you want?” he asked warily. He kept his eyes on Andrew’s forearms, now hidden by a looser sleep shirt.

“I left my knives upstairs,” Andrew said, making Neil stiffen even further. “Why don’t you take the gun out of the holster on your back so we’re both unarmed?”

Neil’s hand flew to the gun, half to assure himself it was still there. “What—how did you—” He couldn’t get his thoughts or words together; he wanted to run more than anything in the world, but he’d been ruthlessly caged in.

“I’m like you,” Andrew said, and his lips curled as if he didn’t like saying it. “The door to the shop only jams when I try to do something it doesn’t like.”

“It?”

Andrew swirled one hand in a circle. “The universe. The world. What have you.”

Whatever it was, it seemed to tilt under Neil’s feet. He spread them slightly to steady himself and gripped his duffle bag tighter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Liar,” Andrew repeated. “It’s that thing that made you come to Eden’s Twilight, even though you clearly wanted nothing more than to get out of there. It’s what made it so I was the only one working the afternoon shift there, even though Nicky and Aaron were the ones originally on the schedule. It’s what put a thousand little coincidences together to make sure we’d meet.”

“The snow was a pretty big coincidence,” Neil eventually managed to croak out.

“It has a flair for the dramatic,” Andrew said dryly. He climbed to his feet, but to Neil’s relief, he didn’t come any closer. “It’s not going to let you leave easily and if you do, I’m sure it’ll make your life a pain, so you might as well just stay. Besides, Nicky makes passable French toast Sunday mornings.” 

Andrew was already halfway up the stairs when Neil said, “I don’t even like French toast.” He wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get a response. 

Neil tested the door one more time. It opened a crack before the wind blew it closed. “Okay,” he muttered. “I get it.” He rubbed his hands against his pants and then dropped the duffle onto the ground near the door. “I still don’t like being meddled with,” he said, even though he was already coming up with lists of questions he wanted to ask Andrew—were there others like them? What was it like for him? How had he known about Neil? Why did the world want them to meet so very badly?

He wanted to go up and ask right away, but got the feeling that wouldn’t gain him anything. If he really wanted answers, he’d have to stay. And he wasn’t a thing meant for staying. He was a runner; he was, above all things, an object in motion. 

Sitting down on the couch, he spent all night going back and forth, trying to figure out what to do. It was only an hour from sun up when he decided.

 

* * *

 

The snow had miraculously let up over night, Neil noted. He wasn’t surprised.

Also, passable was a strong word for Nicky’s French toast, but he ate it anyway. When he was done, he watched Andrew make himself an obscenely tall class of hot chocolate and head outside with it. 

After a few minutes, Neil followed.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://sunrise-and-death.tumblr.com).


End file.
